Protect You
by Keleficent
Summary: These men were ghosts from Stan's past who had come back to haunt him. Stan and Ford had been cornered, but all they wanted was Stan. To save his brother, he turned himself over to them. He failed to protect his brother so many times. He couldn't lose him again.
1. Killing Stan

Stan made some mistakes in his life. Those mistakes were the reason he was sitting in this car with his hands tied behind his back after being kidnapped by the armed men sitting on either side of him.

These men were ghosts from Stan's past who had come back to haunt him. Stan and Ford had been cornered, but all they wanted was Stan. To save his brother, he turned himself over to them. He failed to protect his brother so many times. He couldn't lose him again.

He was brought to a dock and made to walk down the pier. It was a familiar walk: the waves splashing against the pillars, the woods creaking beneath his feet, the smell of salt in the air. He and his brother made it many times to and from the Stan O' War II.

But he had a feeling he will not be leaving this dock tonight.

As they approached the end of the pier, he was hit on the back of his head. The stars barely had time to dance in front of his eyes before he was kneed in the gut. He fell face-first on the dock. He felt blood in his mouth and nose. His bound hands made him helpless to defend himself as they beat and kicked him.

He was coughing and writhing on the floor by the time they finished the assault. One of them grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to his knees. He was nearly off the edge of the pier. The angry men looming above him contrasted with the peaceful ocean behind him. The ocean that will soon be his grave.

"I've been waiting a long time for this, Stan." The man pulled out a gun. Any lingering hope that they were just going to rough him up and leave him be had been dashed.

He will show them no fear. His brother has shown courage in the face of death, and he will honor him by doing the same. He will not let them see Stanley Pines die a coward.

The gun was pressed against his chest. He braced himself for the pain of the bullet to end the heart he felt slamming against his ribcage.

A bang shattered his eardrums before he felt a searing burn in his chest. The force of the shot knocked him backward into the water. Saltwater rushed into his wound. Even if his hands hadn't been bound, he doubted he would have had the strength to swim back up to the surface. He had nothing left to do but wait to either drown and/or bleed to death.

As he was sinking into oblivion, he felt the odd sensation of being pulled upwards. He wondered if he was ascending into heaven. After everything he's seen, was the idea of an afterlife such a crazy concept?

He surfaced and took in a huge, albeit ragged breath. He realized someone was holding on to him. His head hung limp like a rag doll against said person's shoulder.

He was taken to shore and dragged across the sand. He heard someone yelling. The voice sounded so familiar. He tried to push past his haziness and zero in on the voice.

 _"St…Sta…"_

It was his brother.

 _"d…Stan…"_

He was calling his name.

"STANFORD!"

He opened his eyes to see Stan giving him a look that was a mix between anger and worry. "Ford, you idiot! Why did you do that? It was me they wanted."

Ford couldn't help but chuckle at his brother asking him why he pretended to be Stan to save his life when he did the very same thing for their family less than a year ago.

Ford felt hands slide under him as he was lifted into his brother's arms. "Stanley…your back."

Ford was worried about his bad back when he was bleeding to death from a gunshot wound. Stan would have rolled his eyes if they weren't in such a dire situation.

Stan pulled over a taxi and yelled at the startled driver to get them to the nearest hospital. He set Ford onto his lap and laid Ford's head on his shoulder. He groaned in pain as Stan pressed against his wound to stanch the blood.

"We'll be at the hospital soon. Just stay with me, Poindexter, okay?"

"Stan…" Ford looked up at him with eyes filled with fear and pain.

"I'm so sorry, Ford. This is all my fault."

"No…not…not your fault...my fault…should have…protected you." Ford was the one who abandoned his brother. If anyone should suffer the consequences of the life Stan had been forced into, it was him.

"Shh, don't talk, Ford. Don't talk. Just take it easy."

Ford pressed the side of his face under Stan's head for comfort. He tried to be brave, but he couldn't stop his tears. He was in agony, and childish as it was, he was afraid. He was afraid to die. "I'm scared, Stanley."

"Hey…come on, Sixer. Don't talk like that. Everything's gonna be okay." His brother's confession had Stan crying now too. Ford was the bravest person he knew. It killed Stan to see him like this. 'I'm here, Stanford. I got you."

Ford gave a sad smile. If he was going to die, at least it'll be in his brother's arms. "I…I love you, Stanley."

"No…no, don't you do this to me, Ford. Don't you leave me again, you hear me?"

Despite how appealing it would be to surrender to eternal peace, he couldn't do that to Stan, not when he was begging Ford to hold on. He had to hold on for Stan. He looked to his brother for strength as he fought for his life.

The driver barely had time to break before Stan bolted out of the taxi with Ford in his arms. He ran into the ER and screamed for help. Doctors came out to help lay Ford onto a gurney. Stan briefly squeezed Ford's hand before they were pulled apart as they took Ford in for surgery.

His last wish before slipping away was the chance to see his brother again.


	2. A Little Fun Won't Kill Him

"You can't take that with you, Poindexter."

Ford stopped just as he was about to holster his gun. "You're the one who told me it wasn't in the nicest of neighborhoods. What if we get into trouble?"

"You use fists like a real man."

"Maybe you should go without me." Ford was apprehensive about going out drinking. It wasn't as though he was a stranger to alcohol. He did carry a flask after all. But he never drank enough to get inebriated. He needed to be in full mental capacity at all times. He didn't want his inability to let loose ruin his brother's night.

"They're just a bunch of drunk guys, Ford, we'll be fine." Stan playfully ribbed his brother. "Come on, Sixer, haven't I spent enough nights drinking alone?"

Stan immediately regretted his words upon seeing guilt fill Ford's eyes. There was a time Stan wanted nothing more than his brother to beg his forgiveness, but he had done that so much since Weirdmageddon that Stan just wanted him to stop. "Uh, look, forget it. If you don't wanna go-"

"I'll go." Ford quickly pasted on a smile.

"Ford, I don't wanna make you go if you don't want to."

"I want to, Stanley. I do." Ford put his gun away in their safe. "You're right, I need to stop being so paranoid. I think you and I are more than a match for any drunk ruffians who mess with the Pines twins."

"Just don't use nerd words like ruffians, and you'll be just fine." Stan pulled his arm around Ford's neck and pulled him down to give him a noogie.

Ford laughed but still felt uneasy about leaving his gun behind. But his brother planned on getting him drunk and having a weapon on him may not be the best idea. He told himself to relax. He was going to have a fun night with his brother, even if it killed him.


	3. It's the Only Way

"And that's why you should never feed a trabuclus when there three moons are in the Frandasharian sky."

"Three moons?"

"Where's…Frank…kein…stein…nia?"

"What's a trabuclus?"

Stan grinned as he watched his brother tell these engrossed bar patrons the stories of his travels. It reminded him of when Ford would tell Stan stories when they were little boys. Even though Stan couldn't understand half of what he said, Ford was such an avid storyteller that even dumb little Stan wanted to hear more.

It was getting late now. Ford was slurring his words and spilling his drink all over the place with his gesticulations. Stan decided it was probably time to call it a night. He stood up behind Ford and put his hand on his shoulders.

"Alright, Poindexter, I think it's time for this lightweight to go to bed." Stan put Ford's arm around his shoulder and helped him exit the bar.

Stan escorted his brother to shortcut through the dock empty of the workers that went home hours ago. The trip was taking longer than usual because apparently, alcohol brings out Ford's inner child. That inner child was compelling him to bang on the giant metal crates like drums.

"Sixer, cut that out. It's the middle of the night." Despite Stan's annoyance, he couldn't help but crack a smile at Ford giving him a pouty face that rivaled Mabel's. "You dork."

"Dork? I'll show you dork." Ford took his hand off Stan's shoulder and swatted at his brother (not hard enough to hurt him, of course, just playful roughhousing). But he missed completely and nearly fell over. Thankfully, Stan grabbed him just before he ate pavement. The brothers erupted into laughter.

"Stanley, you saved me," Ford said in a theatrical tone that reminded Stan of when he imitated Princess…Unable, or something like that, when he played D, D, & D.

"Yeah, prince charming, I'm your hero."

"You are." Ford suddenly became serious. "You are, Stanley."

"Uh, Ford?"

"You're my hero, Stanley. You're such a great brother. Better than I ever was."

Stan didn't want to have this conversation when his brother was sober, let alone drunk. "Hey, uh, why don't we just be quiet the rest of the way?"

"Mm…" Even in his drunken state, Ford could recognize when he was being shut down. He suddenly perked up becoming more alert than he's been the entire night. "Someone is following us."

"What? There's nobody-" But of course, the universe loved to prove Stan wrong at every turn because behind them he saw a bunch of men walking towards them. They did not look friendly. "Just be cool, Ford. Let me do the talking."

"Hey, fellas, fine evening, isn't...?" As the figures got closer, Stan could make out their faces. One of them was very familiar. Not someone who would be happy to see him.

"Stan, how long's it been? I haven't seen you since you walked off with thousands of dollars of my property."

"Women and children ain't property."

"Now that we have you alone…"

"He's not alone." Ford stepped in front of Stan. "If you want my brother, you're going to have to go through me."

"If you insist." Stan's "friend" pulled out a gun. Before the bullet could be lodged in Ford's head, Stan pulled him behind a crate. They ran as far away as they could from the gunshots maneuvering through the maze of crates. Every direction they went, they ran into more of Stan's "friends." They were surrounded.

Ford looked around. There was a crate that's door was slightly ajar. The dock workers must have forgotten to lock it. "Quick, in there!"

They ran inside the crate and shut the door. Ford picked up a crowbar to wedge into the handles of the door to keep the hostiles outside from coming in.

Stan pulled out his lighter to give them some luminance. "Shit, Ford, what are we gonna do?"

Ford put his hands on his head. His face was scrunched up as though trying to will his mind to sober up and come up with a genius plan to get them out of this alive. But the banging made by the men outside that echoed through their dark metal tomb made it hard to think. Reality was catching up to Ford fast as his expression gave in to desperation.

Stan came to the same conclusion as Ford: there was no way out.

But Stan came to the conclusion that Ford would have never considered: they only wanted Stan.

Stan put his mouth near the door. "Hey, shut up for a second!" Stan waited for the banging to stop before he continued. "Look, I'm the one you want. I'll come quietly if you let my brother go."

"Deal: you come out like a good boy, and we won't hurt your brother."

"Stan, are you crazy? Do you really think I'm going to stand aside and let them take you?"

"This is my mistake, Sixer. I'll pay for it, not you."

"You're my brother. I'm with you no matter what."

"Then, we'll just both die, Ford. Think about it logically…"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT LOGIC!" Ford grabbed his brother's shoulders bawled into Stan's chest. "I can't…I can't let you go. Not again."

"Hey, listen to me. It's going to be okay. Just trust me."

"HEY, ARE YOU COMING OUT? OR ARE WE GONNA HAVE TO GO IN THERE?"

"No, no, I'm coming." Stan studied his brother's face knowing this will probably be the last time he ever sees it. "Please, Ford. There's no other way."

Ford looked up at him with a grief-stricken expression. "You're right. There's no other way."

Stan turned towards the door. As he was about to remove the crowbar locking them in, he felt his brother grab his arm.

"Stanley, wait." Ford came from behind and hugged him above his shoulders. Stan put his hand on Ford's arm and pressed his cheek next to Ford's savoring the close physical contact.

It killed Stan to break their goodbye hug, but the men outside weren't going to wait forever. He didn't want to anger them and risk them taking it out on Ford.

Stan tried to break away but Ford refused to let go. He simply held Stan tighter.

Very tight.

Too tight.

So tight it was getting hard to breathe.

Stan tried to tell Ford to release him, but his windpipes were too restricted.

"Shh, don't fight it. Just sleep. Don't fight it."

Stan tried to get out of the sleeper hold, but everything was going black both because he dropped his lighter and he was losing consciousness.

The last thing he heard was Ford say, "Forgive me, Stanley."

Stan woke up inside the crate completely alone. The door was wide open. He looked down and his first coherent thought came to him. These weren't his own clothes he was wearing, they belonged to…

"FORD!" Stan bolted out of the crate and looked around for any sign of his brother. The dock was completely deserted.

"No…no…oh god…oh please, god no." Stan had been put in his brother's clothes. Which meant Ford was...

"HEY! STOP! YOU'VE GOT MY BROTHER! I'M THE REAL STAN! OVER HERE! I'M THE REAL STAN!"

No answer. Nothing.

Stan banged his fist against the crate not caring how the metal surface bruised his hand. He put his head on the wall closed his eyes in concentration. Where would they take Ford?

Stan had an epiphany and took off towards the only place he could think off: the abandoned pier. It was avoided by everyone because of purported gang activity. The locals called it "the short pier with the long walk," because it was rumored that those who walked down that pier never came back.

He kicked up sand running as fast as he could towards his destination. When the pier came into view, he froze in terror at what he saw. A bunch of men were standing at the edge of the pier. In front of them, on his knees, was Ford. They pulled out a gun and put it to Ford's chest.

Before Stan could even scream, the gun fired and Ford's body plopped backward into the water.


	4. Another Chance

_"Please, Ford. There's no other way."_

 _He knew Stan was right. There was no way they could both get out of this alive. Still, there was no way Ford will allow his brother to go to his death alone. If they wanted to kill Stan, they were going to have to kill him too. He only wished he could at least save Stan. If he could, he would take his…_

 _Wait a minute._

 _"You're right. There's no other way."_

 _Stan turned around to open the door and surrender himself. Ford grabbed his arm._

 _"Stanley, wait." Ford wrapped his arms around his brother's neck in a hug. Stan placed his hand on his arm and leaned his cheek against his brother's completely oblivious to Ford's subterfuge._

 _He never wanted the hug to end, but Stan finally forced himself to pull away. Ford stopped him by tightening his hold around Stan's neck. He cut off Stan's air supply in a way that would ensure he would lose consciousness without causing permanent damage._

 _"Shh, don't fight it. Just sleep. Don't fight it."_

 _Stan flailed trying to get out of Ford's grasp. He felt guilty for hurting his brother, especially since this will be their last moments together. He hoped Stan would understand that he did this for his own good. "Forgive me, Stanley."_

 _Finally, Stan's struggle ended as he succumbed to the sleeper hold. He gently laid his brother down._

 _A loud pounding came at the door. "GET OUT HERE NOW, OR WE'LL KILL YOU BOTH!"_

 _Ford cleared his throat and imitated his brother's voice. "Hold your horses! I'm coming!"_

 _Ford worked quickly to switch their clothes. This had been a lot easier last time when Stan had been awake. But at least this time, he would be saving Stan instead of sacrificing him._

 _Once their clothes had been switched, Ford looked at his brother one last time before going to die in Stan's place._

The memory faded away as Ford woke up in a white sterile room. The burning he had felt in his chest had downgraded to a dull ache. He took a deep inhale through his nose while trying to regain some of his senses.

Someone was holding his hand, and he already knew who it was even before he opened his eyes.

Stan was hunched over sleeping in a chair next to his bed. Even in his sleep, his hand was firmly holding on to Ford's.

Ford was alive. Thanks to his brother, he made it. Once again, Stan had saved him. Once again, Ford was given another chance.

Stan appeared to be shivering a little. He could have sworn he had given Stan his coat. He looked down at his bed and saw said coat had been placed over him.

Ford carefully sat up and took his hand out from under Stan's. He ignored the stinging his movements caused him as he picked up the coat and draped it over Stan's shoulders.

He laid back down and intertwined his hand with his brother's.


	5. Always

_After waiting hours for news of whether his brother will live or die, he couldn't believe he was finally seeing Ford safe and sleeping in his hospital bed._

 _"Here's your coat, Mr. Pines."_

 _Stan almost forgot he wasn't alone. The nurse handed him the coat she had been kind enough to dry for him since he refused to leave the hospital to get new clothes while Ford was in surgery. Rather than putting the coat back on, he put it over his brother to make sure he was warm and comfortable._

 _"You don't have to give up your coat, Mr. Pines. We can get another blanket for him."_

 _"Thanks. Don't worry about it. It's technically his coat anyway. Besides, it's just…it's something I wanna do for him."_

 _Simply seeing Ford wasn't enough, though. Stan felt compelled to touch his face just to feel his brother's warm, living body._

 _Ford regained the bare minimum of consciousness. Memories of the past 24 hours flashed through his mind. He didn't have enough coherence to understand what those memories meant. But he did remember one important fact: Stan had been in danger._

 _"S…St…" It pained him to speak and his eyelids felt like they weighed four tons. But he had to make sure his brother was alright._

 _"Sixer…" Stan said, his voice cracking. He was so relieved to hear Ford's voice again. But Stan knew he shouldn't be pushing him to speak right now. Ford needed his rest. "Sorry, bro, didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep. You're safe."_

 _Stan…it was Stan. He said Ford was safe, but who cares? Was Stan safe? He had to be sure. He forced his eyes open to confirm Stan was alright. "St…Sta…"_

 _"Shh…go back to sleep. It's okay." Stan ran his fingers through his brother's hair. His brother's gentle touch put Ford out in a second. Stan continued to stroke his hair lovingly until he too finally succumbed to his own exhaustion and fell asleep._

Stan sat up and stretched his aching back. He definitely pulled something when he carried Ford to the hospital, and he was sure falling asleep hunched over in a chair didn't help much.

He felt fabric around his shoulders. It was his brother's coat. Ford must have put it back on him while Stan was asleep. He made a mental note to tell Ford off for moving while he's injured. In fact, he was going to tell Ford off for every stunt he pulled tonight.

Honestly, Stan couldn't bring himself to be mad at his brother right now. He had never seen Ford look so fragile, not even as a child. He had seen Ford beaten up before, but it was never so bad that he was left unconscious in a hospital bed with tubes up his nose, an IV in his arm, and a heart monitor to make sure he didn't die where he lay.

Stan had to stop thinking like that. The doctor told him Ford was stable and out of danger. He kept repeating it to himself as a mantra: stable and out of danger.

Slowly but surely, Ford returned to the land of the living. His eyes found Stan's face. He didn't have the energy to speak, so he just smiled.

"Hey, Sixer," said Stan trying to keep his voice from cracking again. He stood up and kissed Ford on the forehead. Ford's smile grew wider as he closed his eyes in contentment. He can tease Stan all he wants about it. Ford scared him nearly to death, so he'll shower his brother which as much love and affection as he damn well pleases. "Don't you ever do anything stupid like that again, Ford. You hear me?"

"Al…wa…" Ford shouldn't be talking, but his expression was so earnest that Stan decided to humor him and put his ear next to Ford's mouth so he didn't have to strain as much. "Always…protect you."

Stan shook his head but smiled fondly. His brother was a stubborn one. It was one trait they had in common. "Fine, but don't think it's a one-way deal, pal."

Stan hugged his brother, burying his head in the crook of Ford's neck. He heard Ford sigh and felt his hand on his back. He'll never let Ford get hurt again. "I'm always gonna protect you too."


End file.
